Lupercalia
by starfishstar
Summary: For some reason, Remus doesn't seem keen on the idea of running around the city naked, sacrificing a goat, or lashing anyone with a whip made of animal hide. Luckily, there are other ways to celebrate Lupercalia.


**Notes: **Written for the rt_morelove SpringFest, for stereolightning's prompt "February 15th – the day after Valentine's day, OR, also, the Roman holiday Lupercalia."

(I've been intentionally vague here about where, exactly, Remus goes to transform at the full moon during this period. Feel free to imagine this story as being set wherever you choose!)

Also, the full moon in February 1998 was apparently the night of the 10th/11th, not the 14th/15th. But I think that's close enough to take a little artistic license, don't you?

. . . . .

Gradually, pain turned into the memory of pain.

Wolf mind became human mind, though more slowly than the physical transformation. The spirit always lagged behind the flesh.

Remus heard rustling somewhere near him, then gentle hands stroked his hair back from his forehead.

"All right, then?" Tonks' voice asked above him.

"Hrgh–" Remus tried, his vocal cords not quite up and running yet. He gave it a second go. "You shouldn't be here."

"Uh, yeah, no. I totally should be here."

Remus felt a smile crack its way across his sore jaw, because Tonks was stubborn and caring and wonderful even when he was trying to get her not to be.

"Cold?" she asked, already pulling a woollen blanket up around him.

Remus forced his eyes open, and managed to flop gracelessly from his side to his back, so he could look up at her.

"Truly, Dora, I asked you not to come. I don't like the thought of you being even in the same building while I'm transformed."

"Which is why I waited outside until the moon set. Trust me, Remus, I've got this down. We've been doing this for months now, haven't we?"

Yes, they had. Every full moon, Remus told her she needn't try to look after him, needn't keep watch while he was transformed or come to check on him immediately afterwards, and every full moon she found a new way to do it nonetheless. That didn't mean Remus had to give up protesting, though.

"Hey, there. Budge over, would you?" Tonks murmured, easing herself down to the floor next to him, then gently shifting his head onto her lap, as she often did when he was recovering after the full moon. These days, though, he and her belly barely fit on her lap at the same time.

Remus smiled and reached one hand up to rest against the belly in question, and was rewarded when the baby kicked against his palm.

Tonks chuckled softly above his head. "Yup, we're all here with you. Want to make something of it?"

Suddenly, Remus really didn't. Not even as a token protest. "No," he said, looking up to meet her eyes. "In fact, I'm even prepared to admit that sometimes I find myself glad you seem to be incapable of ever going along with my requests."

She snorted. "That's because I listen to the sense, not the words, Remus. I can tell when you want company even though you're denying it. I can tell when you want company _despite_ yourself. And now wanna make something of that?"

He smiled and shook his head where it rested against her leg.

Her hand threaded into his hair again. "You do know what day it is, don't you?"

Remus wracked his brains, still frustratingly sluggish. "Er…it's the 15th of February. Is that a…something?"

Tonks sat up straighter and recited, as if from a book, "Lupercalia, ancient Roman festival of purification, health and fertility, believed to be connected to Lupercus, god of shepherds; possibly also connected to the lupa, or she-wolf, who suckled the infant Romulus and _Remus_, Rome's founders of legend. _Your_ holiday, in other words."

Remus groaned. "I am not the founder of Rome, I promise you."

Undaunted, she continued. "The priests – the Luperci – wore goatskin thongs (which I can't quite decide whether that would be sexy or horrifying), sacrificed a goat and a dog (definitely not sexy), then ran round the city in nothing but their goat skins, striking anybody they passed with their thongs. Women would line up along their route and hold out their hands to be lashed, because it was believed that would ensure fertility. But I think we're all right on that count, don't you?"

Remus could only blink up at his wife, who had suddenly become a fount of terrifyingly weird information.

"You know I can't sleep at the full moon, when I know you're here alone," she shrugged. "So I sit and read instead. This month, Lupercalia seemed topical."

Though she said it lightly, Remus could picture it all too well, Tonks sitting up with a book in a corner of their small flat, glancing out the window at the swollen moon and biting her lip as she worried about him. But she was trying to distract him now with cheery chatter, and he appreciated that.

"Topical?" he protested, in keeping with the tone of the conversation. "To read about ancient Romans hitting people with goat hides?"

"It gets even better," Tonks said. "There's also the modern Pagan take on Lupercus – they call him 'the wolf god of winter,' and 'the Great Golden Wolf who drives away the wolves of night.'" She grinned down at Remus. "I told you it was your holiday."

"Please tell me you didn't just compare me to the 'wolf god of winter.'"

"Who 'drives away the wolves of night,' yes. I like that. I think it fits you. Besides," she said, sliding her fingers to the base of his skull to massage the tight muscles there, "the wolf is a noble, strong, family-orientated animal, and we happen to _both_ have it as our Patronus, so I don't know what you're bellyaching about."

Tonks rubbed her warm palm against the nape of Remus' neck in gentle counterpoint to her words.

Then she added, more quietly, "Whenever I cast a Patronus now, it makes me think of you. And that, in turn, makes me happy."

Impulsively, Remus turned his head to press a kiss into Tonks' palm. "It baffles me that you can have spent this long with me and still think wolves are cuddly and fun."

"Actually, I said neither of those words." Remus could hear the smile in her voice. "But now you mention it, yeah, I think both of those things are true. About this particular _were_wolf, at least."

She was quiet for a minute, just stroking Remus' hair, and he let himself drift in that warm sensation.

"Seriously, though," Tonks murmured. "Can't I interest you in a spot of goat sacrifice? Or a nice naked February jog around London?"

Remus chuckled.

"Really, you don't want to dress up in goat skins, have a sacrificial feast and then whip some women with animal hide thongs? I have to say, Remus, I'm disappointed in you."

"I…don't even know what to say to that."

"How about, say you'll let me take you home and tuck you in bed with some nice hot soup. That's just as reasonable a way to celebrate a holiday as goat's blood and salt mealcakes, don't you think?"

"I think that sounds eminently reasonable." Remus smiled up at Tonks and she smiled back at him, upside-down from his current point of view.

"Will you let me take you home, then?"

"I'm fairly certain I'd let you take me anywhere."

Tonks grinned again. "Good answer. All right, up you get, then. Time for this wolf of winter to come home."


End file.
